


Coming Home

by wilddragonflying



Series: Post Reichenbach [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: M/M, Post Reichenbach, Sherlock returns, text message
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-10
Updated: 2013-03-10
Packaged: 2017-12-04 20:00:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/714512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wilddragonflying/pseuds/wilddragonflying
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John Watson never deleted Sherlock's number after the world's only consulting detective leaped from the roof of St. Bart's. Whenever he needed comfort, he would text the number, and it never failed to bring him comfort.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Coming Home

Coming Home

 

John never deleted Sherlock's number from his phone after the disaster at St. Bart's. He forgot about it, at first, what with the shock of Sherlock committing suicide. On the first year anniversary of Sherlock's fall, John was at the grave - not talking, just standing there, reminiscing, wondering if there was something he could have done differently - when his phone rang. He ignored the call, and accidentally brought up his contact list. He saw that Sherlock's number was still in his phone, and hesitated.

After a moment, he called up the number and typed out a text message: _At your grave. I miss you. -JW_

He didnt delete the number.

 

After that first time, he found himself texting Sherlock's number whenever the loneliness got to be too much or he needed to sort out his thoughts.

S _aw a man today wearing a coat and scarf like yours. -JW_

_Lestrade stopped by today. Didn't stay long. -JW_

_At night, I sometimes think I hear you playing the violin. Then I'm reminded that you aren't here anymore when I come down the stairs. -JW_

_I dont know why I stay here. Everywhere I look, every breath I take, reminds me of you. Should it still hurt this much? -JW_

As the second year anniversary approached, John found himself feeling more and more somber. Sherlock had been gone for two years, and yet it constantly felt like he had just stepped out, or gone to investigate a lead, and would walk back through the door any minute. John hadn't updated his blog since the last entry(Today, the most brilliant, most genuine man in the world took his last leap.) yet the counter still ticked upwards sluggishly.

On the day of the second anniversary, John was once more standing at Sherlock's grave. Without thinking about it, he pulled out his phone and sent another text.

_Two years. Still feels like yesterday. -JW_

John hadn't done much socializing since Sherlock's death, and no one really blamed him. Popular opinion that they were lovers aside, John and Sherlock had been as close to two halves of the same person as two people could get. He was getting along fairly well, and if he spent the first few hours of every night fight back - and occasionally succumbing to - tears, then no one had to be any wiser.

_I still speak to your skull every once in a while, when he gets lonely. -JW_

_Mycroft called. Wanted to know if I was going to sell the flat. I told him no. -JW_

_Mrs. Hudson made me tea today. We shared a cup and talked about it. It still hurts, but not as much as it used to. -JW_

_I only wanted one thing from you, Sherlock! One bloody thing! Couldnt you have done that, for me? I thought our friendship warranted at least one miracle! All i wanted was for you to not be dead! -JW_

Three years to the day after Sherlock fell, John was once more standing at Sherlock's grave, his phone in his hand.

_This is the last time I'll stand here. It's been three years, Sherlock. It's been three years, and it still hurts like hell to think of you. So maybe I should just not think of you anymore. -JW_

_Good-bye. -JW_

John put his phone in his pocket as he walked away. He didn't look back.

 

That night, John was sitting in his armchair, reading the newspaper when his phone beeped at him. New Text Message, the screen read. Before he had a chance to open it, there was a knock at the door.

John opened the message at the same time he opened the door.

_Coming home. -SH_


End file.
